


Bone Deep

by PitchGold



Category: Original Work
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Angst, Blood and Gore, Canon Queer Character, Canon Queer Relationship, Character Death, Childhood Friends, Childhood Trauma, Demons, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fantasy, Gay, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, LGBTQ, M/M, Modern Era, Monster Boy, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Original Character(s), Past Relationship(s), Queer Character, Queer Friendly, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Southern Gothic, Trauma, Urban Fantasy, Urban Legends, Violence, Were-Creatures, Werewolf, Witchcraft, Witches, deep south, ghost character, monster fucking, queer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:54:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27901063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PitchGold/pseuds/PitchGold
Summary: Kirin hated being home alone. The creaks and groans of the old house's bones sent shivers down his spine. That's how he found himself at the humane society, gazing at the strange wolf-dog sprawled across the cement floor. He'd never been a dog person before this, but something about those strange mint-colored eyes spoke to a loneliness he was familiar with."I'll take him." He said to the girl._______Bone Deep is a very sad story, about Kirin's broken backwater life. He brings home a dog only to find he's brought home a werewolf. This is a  queer, werewolf, ghost story set in the deep muddy south. A southern gothic set to the melancholy melody of loss and backwater mysticism. It's a dark, emotional ride, not for the faint of heart, but a worthwhile ride for those willing to venture forward.
Relationships: Original Character & Original Character
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. 1 - Dog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ###  Chapter Art: [ 1 - Dog ](https://twitter.com/PitchGold/status/1334573377260900354)
> 
> #####  All Chapter Art: [ 1 ](https://twitter.com/PitchGold/status/1334573377260900354)

Kirin gave a deep sigh. “Winston passed away.” pinching his nose as he leaned over the steering wheel, he closed his eyes as he listened for a response from the phone at his ear. 

There was a long pause, the slight crackle of the line, the only sound for a notable few seconds, and Kirin raised his head, narrow eyes skeptical as he spoke. “Ryker.” It was meant to sound like he was checking to make sure Ryker was on the other end, but it came out as a scold unintentionally. 

“That’s just...” Ryker’s tone sounded stilted and stuffy and he trailed off like he was trying to find something to say but the sorrow of the news was too much for Ryker to bear--or at least that's probably how Ryker wanted to make it sound. The sarcasm was too evident to be believable. 

Kirin narrowed his eyes further. “Ryker,” He repeated, this time definitely scolding. 

“I’m sorry you feel bad.” Ryker tried choosing his words carefully but the tone was still quite off. 

Kirin’s shoulders slumped a bit as he leaned back in the driver's seat, his head leaned back to the headrest. 

“Is ‘I’m happy for you' appropriate?” Ryker’s natural sarcastic tone finally peeked through. 

“Ryker!” Kirin actually shouted this time. 

“I wasn’t doing well at lying!” Ryker spouted in his defense. 

“I’ve had that cat since high school!” Kirin whined. 

“No, no,” Ryker corrected. “That badger has been squatting in your home since high school!” 

“That’s not fair to Winston!” Kirin still whined. But he had to admit calling his best friend at that moment made it better, a smile for the first time was slight but still there on his face since he’d arrived home to find his fallen companion. 

“Winston was an asshole!” Ryker said point-blank. “And I won’t miss him.”

Kirin’s lips pressed into a tight line across his face as he stared at the wooded street ahead of him. He would miss Winston. He glanced at the house he was parked at on his passenger side. Joel’s current lodgings were less than to be desired. It was better than a halfway house Kirin reasoned. 

“I reckon we’re gonna be fixin’ to have awake?” Ryker spoke up on the phone. 

Kirin shook his head, even though Ryker couldn’t see him. “The vet took him, so I don’t have anything but his collar.” 

“He was an awful sod,” Ryker still kept up. “But for you, I’m willing to drink some beer in his honor.” 

Kirin cracked a real smile as he sat back in the driver's seat, his chin dropping as he huffed out a laugh. “What a burden for you.” 

Ryker gave a deep sigh. “I’m just a nice guy like that.” 

“I’ll be at the house a bit later,” Kirin glanced out the passenger window again, his fingers were getting fidgety on the steering wheel. 

FInally, Joel had surfaced, shoulders hunched in a jacket with the collar flipped up he had his dirty redhead down as he exited the front door, slamming it behind himself. 

Another failed to launch. 

“You’re not there now?” Ryker questioned. 

Kirin shifted uncomfortably in the driver's seat. “I’m running some errands.” He couldn’t tell Ryker where he was, he was just asking for a smattering of curses and threats. 

The differences between people sometimes grow and sometimes shrink. In high school, the differences between Ryker and Joel shrank. Barely a line at their feet. They both were wild and loud and annoying but as time marched on--Joel had the option of second chances. Ryker never had that, and as their lives fell into place, that fact had made the differences between the two of them a canyon filled with bitterness and spite. 

“Let me know when you get back so we can have some bereavement beers,” Ryker said lightheartedly. 

Kirin let out a deep breath. Ryker didn’t sound like he knew anything was amiss. 

Next to Kirin, his passenger side door opened and a slight man with dark eastern Asian skin and a shock of dirty red curls slid in. Joel was small, at most five feet, eight inches tall and. His face held a sort of boyishness to it even as they were on the downhill slide into thirty. 

“Do you want dinner tonight?” Ryker asked over the line, for once his voice took on a softer tone. He may have hated Winston but he knew how much Kirin liked that old grumpy cat. 

“Nah,” Kirin glanced at Joel next to him. “I think I just want to--I need some time.” 

“Alright,’ Ryker said chipper. “Let me know when you want some grieving company,” 

“Yeah,” Kirin said. “Tomorrow?”

Ryker made an affirmative sound. 

Kirin bid goodbyes before he tapped to end the phone call and slid his phone away from his face. 

Next to him, Joel looked straight ahead to the dashboard. 

“Was that Ryker?” His voice held a monotone Kirin could recognize. Whenever Joal got angry his voice did this, becoming very matter of fact. 

Kirin gave a nod. 

Joel finally looked away from the dash. His eyes were almond-shaped and dark brown. He and kirin shared that same eye color. “Something happen?” he jutted his chin towards the phone Kirin still held. 

“My cat died,” Kirin admitted. 

“Oh.” 

There was nothing else for several seconds. Blinking, kirin pulled himself out of the expectation for something more as he shifted in the driver's seat. 

“Where did you need a ride to?” Kirin asked. 

Joel licked his lips. “I got a new apartment worked out.” 

Kirin looked past Joel to the decrepit house he'd emerged from. The lawn was a mess or unkept trash and forgotten bits of junk. Kirin could take a stab at the group of folks inside, but he didn’t want to. 

“Tell me where to go,” Kirin said as he started the engine. 

“Thanks,” Joel spoke softly. 

Kirin nodded. “Yeah. Any time.” 

Joel looked up. “You look--clean.” 

Right. It had been probably close to three years since Joel and Kirin had been in the same car together. 

“Thanks,” Kirin looked down at his rumpled button-down and slacks. The high school he taught at wasn’t a stickler on dress codes but Kirin had always tried a bit. It was way more than Ryker’s basketball shorts and old ratty T-shirt he wore most days. 

“My car has been in the shop,” Joel quickly stated, a bit too quickly, his eyes shifting away. “And I just uhhh--I needed a change of scenery from that house—“

“I know,” Kirin nodded. Joel was lying, he had a horrible lack of control in the emotional range in his voice and Kirin knew Joel hated to admit his shortcomings so Kirin let it go. Kirin managed a small smile. “Don’t sweat it.” 

“I tried calling my family--I thought as I got older my dad would be easier to be around...” Joel rolled his eyes with the half-assed joke. His eyes were red, bloodshot still probably from the night before. 

Kirin gave him a merciful laugh. 

“Thanks for coming to get me,” Joel repeated, he didn’t look up from where his eyes were pinned at the dashboard. 

“It’s no problem,” Kirin spoke. “I’m always happy to be here for you, Joel.” 

Joel gave a dismissive sound as he looked out the passenger window. 

Kirin just sighed and looked to the road before he pulled the car out of the parking lot and into the street. 

  
  
  
  


It didn’t take long for Joel to recover from his mope and start chatting away at Kirin again. “I feel like it will be a really good opportunity for me. I’ll live by myself for the first time and Ms. Hansen is willing to give me a really good deal on the rent.” 

“I’m so glad for you!” Kirin nodded as he glanced over at Joel. 

The tethers of Kirin to Joel was a sort of class Kirin didn’t like to speak about. Kirin was old money in essence, raised to be an heir though a kingdom of nothing but unpaid debts and lost splendor was all he’d receive. Joel’s family, on the other hand, was new money. He was the only son of a wealthy Vietnamese father and his lovely American wife. Joel was new money raised to be an heir to a kingdom of opportunity though in the end all he’d inherit were broken promises and disappointment. 

There was something about that, feeling like a prince only to know what waited for you, in the end, was nothing. 

So when Joel called, Kirin picked up the phone. 

Because Joel was new money. His family hadn’t squandered away his inheritance like Kirin’s. Joel had squandered it away from himself. He’d rejected the hand his father held out to him every time. 

Maybe that’s why Kirin liked him still, after all these years. 

Joel did something Kirin had never been able to accomplish. 

“My family wants me to go to college.” Joel gave a flippant gesture towards the window. “They’ve been really awful to deal with so I haven’t really given them an answer about it. The longer I make them wait the redder in the face my father gets every time he brings it up.” 

“I think you’ll do really well living on your own,” Kirin agreed.

All that new money--and Joel _chose_ a shitty job and a shitty apartment. 

Kirin glanced over at him. 

If only Joel knew how new money turned old--how it poisoned everyone, how old money ran dry and turned families cannibalistic.

Kirin looked back to the road. Maybe Joel would escape that fate like this--living on his own in his shitty apartment with his shitty job. 

He saw her at that moment. Thinking about inheritances, thinking about how it was always more than just stuff. The brilliant sun nearly washed her from Kirin’s sight. 

“My mom says my sisters all got into Ivy League you know, and that I could do it too.” Joel beamed. “I just gotta clear a bit up in my life before I commit to going.” 

“That’ll be great.” Kirin tried to sound enthused as he watched the figure up ahead. 

As they came closer, Kirin realized it was a woman alongside the road. She carried a vintage suitcase at her side as she walked. A light blue dress swished ever so slightly, cut as a flair and sleeveless. It was like looking at an actress who’d strode right out of a fifty’s southern romance. 

Kirin slowed the car as they got closer. None of those romances were true. Kirin would know, he was from old money after all. The appeal of the sweet southern bell only lasted till the moment they went crazy and forgot the names of their own children. 

It caught Joel’s attention and he looked up, brow creased. “Is she hitchhiking?” He asked, disbelief in his tone. 

“I’m not sure.” Kirin gripped the steering wheel with both of his pale long-fingered hands. 

“Don’t stop,” Joel barked over the console as Kirin slowed the car further. 

“It’s a long way to town,” Kirin said in return, side-eyeing Joel. It was a bit of a hasty remark though Kirin wasn’t sure why he was shocked by Joel's quick jump to snub someone. He’d done it all his life. 

Looking back at the road, Kirin paid Joel no further heed as he pulled up next to the woman. 

As he stopped, she stepped up to the car, turning as Kirin rolled down the passenger window. She was beautiful—in a sort of--natural and yet artificial way. She was a doll, but a person. 

She had a heart-shaped face with bright blue eyes that had long spidering eyelashes. Her hair was nearly as white as her skin and was cut in a neat bob just past her chin, framing her face. She had tucked a light blue headband into her hair that matched her dress. 

“Do you need a ride?” Kirin asked, he glanced both ways on the old road. This wasn’t the sort of place for someone to hitchhike. 

Joel next to him turned with a look of exasperated disbelief that turned to exceptional annoyance. 

“Oh,” The girl's voice was high-pitched, almost like the whine of a child. “You are too kind.” 

Kirin wasn’t at all kind, in his opinion.

“We’re headed into Regent anyway, we could drop you off somewhere.” Kirin offered. 

“She could be a serial killer,” Joel leaned over the console to whisper not nearly quietly enough. 

Kirin brushed his old friend off. “Feel free to climb into the back seat.” 

The girl cocked her head to the side. Like a doll, but with a person inside. Her eyes were large, almost unnaturally so as her gaze lingered on Kirin before sliding away to look at Joel. Joel managed a look back in return though his own gaze no doubt expressed his still lingering exceptional annoyance. 

“Why thank you,” The girl said before she moved to open the rear door to climb in. She slid her suitcase in and sat in the middle of the back row seat. 

Kirin noticed the odd behavior but did not comment. 

“Do you have a name?” Joel turned to ask as he raised his brow. His haughty tone was a bit uncalled for in Kirin’s opinion. 

Again she seemed to consider as she cocked her head. “I’m—“ She smiled slowly but saturated with sweetness as if letting whatever unseen movie she posed for get her close up before she answered a moment later. “Ella.” 

“It’s very nice to meet you, Ella,” Kirin said as he flipped his blinker on, and shot a scathing look at Joel. “I’m Kirin.” In the rearview mirror, Kirin suddenly saw the flash of lights. 

“Who’s your family?” Joel asked. 

Kirin cast a look at Joel. 

The purpose of the question was revealed a moment later when Joel answered his own question. “I’m the Duong’s youngest son.” 

The girl shifted in her seat, possibly the only person in Regent not familiar with Joel’s family. 

That exceptional annoyance was back on Joel’s face. 

His hands on the wheel, Kirin considered what to do--before he saw the cop car pulling off to the side of the road to join him. It wasn’t unusual, Regens police force didn’t have a terrible amount of things to do. As the cop pulled up behind Kirin, the cop steps out of their car. It was Tod Harrison. Tod had been in the same class as both Kirin and Joel. 

Joel looked over the seat to see the same as well with a heaved sigh. “Now?”

Kirin snapped a glare at Joel. 

“He’s stopped me twice this week already,” Joel grumbled into his jacket as he tucked his chin like a petulant child. 

Kirin’s brow creased. “You told me you were done using.” 

“Something I've tried to tell Tod as well.” Joel hissed under his breath. 

“But you were still stopped…?” Kirin hoped there was a plausible explanation. 

Joel shrugged. “It’s for the money. Tod knows my dad will pay whatever he slaps on me.” 

New money versus old money. 

Joel could pay for his criminal activities to go away. 

Kirin had never been allowed to be a criminal. 

“Hey!” Tod had an even, loud voice. He’d always been like that, boisterous, loud, and overly friendly. The quintessential southern all-American boy. 

Kirin quickly rolled down the window. “Evening, Officer Harrison.”

“Evnin’,” Tod parroted back in a thick southern accented cheery tone, as he stepped up to the car. “Joel--good to see ya again.”

Joel in the side seat didn’t look happy to see the other man. He gave a half-hearted smile. Tod’s dad had been a cop as well and picking up Joel was apparently starting to be a family tradition. 

“It’s been a good long while since I’ve seen the two of you together!” Tod commented. “You all used to be together all the time!” 

Kirin cleared his throat. 

Unfortunately, Tod didn’t catch on. “Why I always remember you all around town, Watts was with ya’ll too and that Graves kid, ya’ll had your own little posse!” He further reminisced about their good ole high school days. “Hey, you remember when you guys all took state in swimming? Man, that sure was some ruckus ya’ll kicked up over that!” 

Kirin hoped his expression looked like more of a smile than a grimace. 

Aw yes. The glory days of the swim team! 

As he glanced in Joel’s direction, there was a definite expression of tight lips and a grimace at his eyes. He wasn’t too happy about the mentioning of his past either. 

You see, when a golden era is postmarked by--an amputation of sorts, where a group of boys used to operate as a whole but now was all disjointed limbs fumbling--there's a sour taste left in Kirin’s mouth. 

Bringing up the trophies reminded only of the memories of frantic blood loss. 

Only Kirin and Ryker had stitched themselves back to each other's sides, one painstaking needle thread at a time. 

At least, until Joel had given Kirin a call. 

“Why hello there young lady!” Tod noticed the woman in the back seat finally. “I’m afraid I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you!” 

Kirin looked over his shoulder at the girl before backing to Tod again. 

She stared at Tod for a long moment before cocking her head to the side. “I’m Ella,” she said again, the same tone as a recording.

“Where ya’ll headed?” 

Kirin gave a long breath, “Ella here needs a ride into town.” 

“Aww! Ya new here?” Tod turned back to the back seat. 

“I have some old family ties here.” Ela singsonged. 

Joel looked over the seat again at her. “You’re from here? You never said your family!” 

She gave a sickly sweet smile and a chirping little laugh. “I’m a Clairemont. My family has a very long history here.” 

She was intriguing Joel. Kirin could see it as he watched him. 

“Ella Clairemont,” Joel repeated under his breath. 

It was like a melody. A name a siren would possibly choose. 

“Welcome back, Ms. Clairemont,” Tod said dutifully. 

“I could show you around, Ella!” Joel sprang to life, his red curls jostled with the action as he leaned over the seat to talk to Ella. 

Kirin had to stifle a sigh. 

Tod cleared his throat. “Kirin, you headed home after you drop the miss off?” 

Kirin gave a nod. “Is there a problem?”

“Nah,” Tod shook his head. “There’s just been some grave robberies around the older parts of Regent. I just want you to be careful, Okay?” 

“I will,” Kirin said. “Thanks for the heads up.” 

In the side seat next to Kirin, Joel was already chatting away with Ella, his previous impression seemed circumvented entirely. 

“I’ll see y'all around!” Tod called as he leaned back away from Kirin’s window and started back to his car.

  
  
  
  


New money is fickle is what Joel has taught Kirin. 

And as Joel stepped out of the car after Ella, his haste was what struck Kirin. 

Was Kirin their called chauffeur? 

With less than a backhanded wave, Joel scampered back out of Kirin’s life. 

Kirin couldn’t help but feel the emptiness in the car suddenly as he looked at the cleared space. His thoughts turned to going home--and he remembered… That space was empty as well. And he’d told Ryker not to come over, that he didn’t need comfort. 

Joel held the door to the hotel for Ella, laughing with her for a moment as the two disappeared inside. 

It was childish to feel this left out. Kirin was acting like a child. He started the car. He should just go home. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


He didn’t go home. Kirin reasoned to himself it was just a detour, but as he pulled into the Humane Society parking lot and gotten out of the car he didn’t bother to give a further explanation. 

The hallway was a long chasm of misery. The greenish tint of the lights overhead and the windowless walls created this tunneling dungeon feel, as Kirin walked through the swinging doors. Two long rows of kennels, back to back lined either side of the dreary hall. This wasn’t what he’d expected when the receptionist had led him through the doors from the lobby.

  
Even from where Kirin stood, he couldn’t see over the dividers of each kennel. There was the distant smell stuck in his nose of dog. And not the smell of a dog living there as a side note. It was much more of distant urine and feces and wet fur kind of smell, the kind that came from no matter how much the cement floors had been scrubbed, it was soiled too many times not to still linger in the cramped and crowded air. 

Kirin swallowed as he pulled the tie at his neck looser. Maybe this hadn’t been his best idea. His pale skin reflected the light a bit too well, and Kirin frowned as he caught a glimpse of his hand. He was sure his nigh white blonde braid looked even worse in the lighting as well.

  
  
He’d come because—well he wasn’t quite sure. It was only a handful of minutes before the humane society shelter closed, and yet—he’d still ended up here.

  
In the dog section…Kirin was a cat person. He’d had cats all his life. And just earlier that day he was a bonafide cat person...

  
  
Winston was the most hellish thing he’d ever owned. Three legs, one eye, and an absolutely terrible personality, his old grey and white stray had still been the one thing Kirin always looked forward to in his day. No matter that the cat yowled all night long sometimes, or he mostly ignored the litter box in favor of bathroom towels or that he never actually enjoyed being pet—he was still Kirin’s.

  
  
Kirin frowned as he stepped forward, looking over the long row after row of kennels. The barking in the room wouldn’t have been quite so unbearable if every sound hadn’t recettched off the cement walls, floors, and ceiling echoing misery back to every call.

  
  
And the symphony of barks was so horribly off-tune as Kirin started down one of the long rows.

  
  
Dogs slammed into the gates of their cages or cowered in the corners. Fight or flight, hung in the air, nearly a tangible mist from kennel to kennel. This place was downright miserable.

  
  
Kirin looked around again. A sign overhead with a happy cartoon pup stated, “Large dogs” over him.

  
  
"Are you looking for something specific, sir?"

  
Kirin pivoted back around, “...uhhh, I'm sorry?”

  
  
The girl wore a bright purple human society shirt and had her dark fro pulled back into a low clasp. It was such a cheery look it nearly felt off place, like a dichotomy of what was expected versus the reality standing right before Kirin.

  
  
"You're here for a dog?" She clarified.

  
  
And he caught it this time, the smooth southern accent of Regent, Georgia.

  
  
It was something Kirin had never had. Despite his upbringing, he’d managed to annunciate his words still. Ryker had it clear and strong. Joel even with a Vietnamese father had his moments of drawled words. 

It occurred to Kirin suddenly--in the car, Ella hadn’t spoken with an accent of any kind. Her voice was clear, like a melody.

  
  
"I..." Kirin considered, trying to remember the question. Was he there for a dog? He was there—because he didn’t want to go home alone... but that sounded pathetic so he was for sure not going to say that.

  
  
"Uh, yeah," Kirin tried.

  
  
The girl smiled at him. "Well, that's great! Do you have a preference at all?"

  
  
...yeah, did Kirin even like dogs? 

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d really been around dogs. Most of his human contact was with Ryekr and he couldn't keep a houseplant alive.

  
He liked the idea of a dog. Happy, wagging their tail as he came in, eager to see him every day. Kirin reasoned he could be a dog person.

  
  
"Uhm," he was an English teacher so he’s not sure when all of his English skills started to deteriorate. "I was thinking something—happy?" He tried, he even pulled on a half-smile and a flash of teeth, though he knew he probably still looked nervous as hell. 

He should have just gone home. Why had seeing Joel’s sudden shift and eagerness to give that girl the lay of the land make Kirin feel so--empty in contrast?

  
  
"Well, if ya like, there's a golden retriever brood of puppies that have just come in," the girl eagerly started forward. "They’re in the small dog section if ya wanna follow me!” 

A golden retriever was a handsome dog if Kirin remembered correctly.

  
  
"Sure," Kirin landed on and pocketed his hands as he turned.

  
  
It was as he finally faced forward that he saw it.

  
  
Every dog there was going nuts still, either from nervousness or excitement they all still whirled and jumped up against their gates and whined and some eve howled.

  
  
All except for—one.

  
  
It was droopy minty green eyes that snagged Kirin in. A long ragged snout lay across a paw as the lanky thing sprawled out at the back of his kennel. The dark chocolate blackish fur was a mess. It was mangy and patched, sunspots peaked through dirty clomp d patches of fur and it seemed brittle and unkempt. 

The dog was a pitiful thing.

  
  
The girl was already leading on, chatting away about the puppies, as Kirin stepped closer to the kennel.

  
  
The dog was big. Nearly taking up half the kennel space all on his own, his big form seemed thinned though. Like his fur, the dog looked a bit beat up in general. There was a swipe of what looked like scaring across the right side of his face, and several scratches up over the dog's snout.

  
  
Kirin only drifted closer. "What do you know about this one?”

His cat had been a pitiful thing.

  
  
“Oh,” the girl breathed as she got close enough to see which one Kirin was talking about. “I don’t know if you want that one. He’s not very nice.”

  
  
That was odd for a volunteer, Kirin thought as he tilted his head.

  
  
“Most dogs just need some patience I’m sure,” Kirin said as he stepped forwards towards the kennel.

  
  
He slid the lock open before he stepped through the open gate.

  
  
“Sir!” The girl nervously said.

  
  
There was no movement as Kirin stepped in. He paused. But the dog only adjusted his head to look over at Kirin with a blank expression.

  
  
“You don’t seem that bad,” Kirin commented with a smile.

  
  
He hunched down, balancing on his haunches as he looked at the dog. It was bigger up close. Paws possibly the size of Kirin’s own hand. His great head barely moved. Minty green eyes watched Kirin but his ears stayed lax.

  
  
“Do you know what breed of dog it is?” Kirin asked as he looked over his shoulder to the girl.

  
  
"That dog is an enigma,"

  
  
The light voice startled Kirin and he looked up to see as a tall man with black-rimmed glasses and light brown artfully parted hair stepped into view, looking over the kennel wall.

  
  
"Oh really?" Kirin tipped his head. He looked back to the dog and held out his hand, palm up.

  
  
The big nose flared and a minty cracked eye seemed to move over Kirin but the dog didn’t move.

  
  
"I’m Doctor Volac Richter.” He reached his hand down through the bars of the kennel. 

An unfamiliar name to Kirin.

  
  
Kirin gave a smile before he shook the man’s hand. "Kirin LeMont." 

The man tipped his head. 

A familiar name. 

The Lemont’s were a familiar family--old roots that had once ran strong through the southern marshes.

  
  
"Are you from New Orleans?" Dr. Richter’s brow rose.

  
  
Kirin nodded. "My family is, though I've never been.” Kirin gave a laugh. “I’ve lived here all my life.”

  
  
The doctor gave an eyebrow raise. "A native then?"

  
  
Kirin gave a chuckle. "Sure."

  
  
The vet didn’t look away from Kirin, only smiled. "I think he might be a native as well," he nodded to the dog.

  
  
The statement confused Kirin as he looked at the dog.

  
  
"Is he a husky?" Kirin asked as he looked over the dog in turn.

  
  
"Nope," the man said. He leaned over the kennel as he smiled. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say he was a wolf.”

  
  
Kirin looked up again. His nose scrunched. He tipped his head as he donned a big grin. “That just sounds cheesy.”

  
  
The doctor tipped his own head as he looked down at Kirin, his brow lifting.

  
  
“Does it?” The man asked.  
  
Kirin gave a chuckle. It did. It very much did.  
  
There was a huff from the dog then. Nearly like a dismissive snort the dog drew both of their attention fast.  
  
“He could be a rather handsome boy though,” Kirin commented. He was inching closer. He never really thought that he was a dog person but he was still trying to get closer. Grinning like a kid he found himself holding out his hand.  
  
“A few regular meals and somewhere dry and warm to sleep and you may be right.” The Vet sounded like he was humoring Kirin at that point.

  
  
Kirin offered his hand closer. Minty eyes shifted over and the dog slid its head over just enough—a war of breath ghosted over Kirin’s hand before the dog dropped his head back over a big lanky paw again.

  
  
Dropping his hand back over his knee, Kirin this time couldn’t look away from the dog.

  
  
"Was he surrendered by someone?" Kirin inquired.

  
  
The vet shook his head. "No. That dog’s had a bit of a rough one. He was a stray. And from the looks of it, he’s been in more than a few scuffles for food probably."

  
  
The scars at the side of the dog's face, just visible through the patchy clumped fur drew Kirin’s attention again. The Vet was right. The dog looked nearly haggard and weathered by the elements.

  
  
"He’s been here for a few days already," the vet said. "And you know despite giving a growl when he doesn’t wanna do something, he really just has been very docile.”

  
  
"How much is the adoption fee?" Kirin asked.

  
  
There was a chuckle from the vet overhead. It was knowing enough.

  
  
Kirin gave his own smile. Maybe he was a dog person.

  
  
"Come on," the vet beckoned. "We can get ya started over at the front desk."

  
  
Kirin looked up, a bit hesitant to leave his new lanky sleepy friend.

  
  
"I’ll have Amanda get him on a leash and everything for you." The vet went on as he gestured again to beckon Kirin up.

  
  
With one last look, Kirin stood. The dog seemed to have perked just a bit this time, his ears were pricked forward as he gazed up at Kirin. 

Kirin could tell when he was being assessed.

Kirin gave a smile. “I think you’ll be handsome soon enough.” He turned to follow the vet, slipping the kennel closed again behind him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ####  Read More: [Table of Contents](https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/e/2PACX-1vQgpjlnkMqJEqycr1ZIbbksEHkASwFYCP7u1HLa7gktmpn6bLDCyNgUYA0nHnxHpZcrpCtfQtsqtq0o/pubhtml?gid=0&single=true) | [Next](https://docs.google.com/document/d/e/2PACX-1vSxRR37H7acrMRx760yRGctVuw06jRe9X8KcHig5mTwUd7GUReFnt1AANPpkeenJvlEEX8VxOYRfuIy/pub)
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	2. 2 - Demon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Start reading Bone Deep from the [Begining. ](https://docs.google.com/document/d/e/2PACX-1vTakFsD7bEs0SduQ2M44j0Jo19Z10g8aLTmrb3q1MfxHYh3RMdIZTe879p_zB83VbJvUzX7kV1qLe8_/pub)
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Kirin’s drive home was through winding roads, houses dotted every so often, a glimpse of them stolen through the trees. The cracked asphalt road led to a dead-end out in these woods... As Kirin pulled to a stop at one of the few intersections, he looked in his rearview mirror, rustling from the back catching his attention. 

Kirin was the last LeMont left in Regent. Not many people in town had forgotten it either. Generations of money accumulated their sort of social wealth. Kirin never needed to introduce himself. 

A Prince of the deep south, his father had always called him. They were dependents of Charlemagne he would always tell Kirin. They were successors of an empire. 

The truth was something that had startled Kirin out of his childhood. They lived very long ways from an empire. All Kirin had ever seen were the woodlands and tiny old homes, the wandering old roads, and the stray wildlife that lived within the depths. 

At the second four-way stop, Kirin slowed the car. The restlessness in the back picked up as Kirin pulled to a stop. To the left was Augusta Bridge. Shrouded in woodlands and greenery, the old bridge was never really used anymore. The other three directions all led to dead ends and small, old houses.

Kirin flipped on his blinker. His house was farther up the river, the road following north to another cluster of homes. 

There was rustling again and a dark head came forward. The dog’s ears flicked forward, alert as he looked ahead to the dirt road leading to the bridge. 

It was a dark, covered bridge, pitched roof, and no windows, just places where the walls had been broken through or boards had fallen off. Probably twenty feet below it, the deep banks of the wide river were eroded, leaving a significant drop to the shallow water below. 

Kirin didn’t know what was on the other side of that bridge, he’d always assumed it was just more farmland, more wilds of the muddy south. 

Kirin reached behind to brush a hand through the side of the dog’s face. 

Almost immediately the alert eyes shifted into an annoyed expression and the dog turned away. 

Kirin sighed before he finally pulled his car forward, turning away from their view of the old bridge and headed home. 

* * *

  
  


  
"Is it half-dead?"    
  


Ryker was--No Money. Nothing. He’d never had a dime to his name. His parents long gone in his life had never had anything. They owned no land, no assets. There wasn’t an ounce of gold for Ryker to inherit. 

But inheritance was still a thing, Kirin had found out from being Ryker’s sole conspirator. 

An abandoned, condemned trailer still contributed to Ryker, in how the small world of Regent saw him. 

And an inheritance is hard to escape. 

Kirin poked Ryker in the side for his callous comment. 

“Hey! It looks like something out of a Resident Evil game!” 

Kirin snorted.”He’s not that malnourished.” 

“What breed is it even? Demonic with papers?” Ryker bent as he looked at the dog. 

  
Kirin tipped his head. "I don’t know."    
  
Ryker let out a long-drawn sigh.    
  
They’d known each other since Kirin could remember. Ryker had always lived just a bike path or two away from Kirin. 

He was like a different world to Kirn. Playing a prince could be exhausting at home, so running away into the wilds with Ryker had been the grandest escape.    
  
Ryker smirked from where he leaned over Kirin’s kitchen island. He smirked a lot. It was his trademark. His muddy brown hair was tied back that morning. It was still the messy Kurt Cobain haircut he’d had since college and Kirin doubted it would ever change. Always none too concerned with appearances, Ryker wore basketball shorts and a T-shirt with a printed "Regent High" on it.    
  
They both worked there at Regent High. Ryker was the—everything coach. Swimming, Kirin knew, was his favorite. They had all competed in high school. But he also coached basketball, baseball, soccer, track and field, lacrosse, bowling, and he admitted to knowing absolutely nothing about fencing but he was still showing up to the fencing club meetings. The only thing he didn’t do was football.    
  
Though that was the one thing—the football field at Regent High had stood overgrown and under kept for the last fifteen years. An oddity in southern Georgia. Kirin remembered having a football team while he had attended school though he couldn’t remember much else besides it existed.    
  
"Are they positive it was a dog?"    
  
Kirin lifted the paper he was grading at the island and smacked his friend over the back of the head.    
  
"It hasn’t moved," Ryker squawked in his defense. "I’m just doing my due diligence! What if you brought a demon into our home!"    
  
Kirin rolled his eyes. "My home," he corrected for possibly the millionth time. 

* * *

It was Kirin’s inheritance after all.    
  
Ryker grunted in acknowledgment. He crossed his arms as he stared over at the dog.    
  
Though—Kirin couldn’t blame Ryker. In his spare time, Ryker spent nearly all of it at Kirin’s place. His tiny one-bedroom apartment wasn’t the greatest looker after all. And from everything Kirin had heard about Ryker’s crazy neighbors, Kirin never turned down Ryker’s request to come over.    
  
"And it’s not a demon," Kirin scrunched his nose as he protested. "You sound like one of my students." Kirin nearly rolled his eyes.    
  
Ryker snickered. His hazel blue eyes side-eyed at Kirin. “I'm more mature than that.” 

“Ha!” Kirin didn’t even bother to hide how funny he found that declaration. 

One minty eye cracked but with a gruff sigh, the dog didn’t move much.    
  
Kirin glanced over through his reading glasses. It was getting late. Outside, the orange dusk was settling over the small house.    
  
"You think he feels at home?” Kirin propped his chin upon his hand as he set aside his extra work.    
  
Ryker actually rolled his eyes. "You always have to bring home the charity cases!" He tossed his hands up in surrender as he turned to the fridge.    
  
"That's how you ended up here," Kirin reminded with another sweet smile. His brow lowered though, "hey! Stop drinking all my beer!"    
  
"Sue me!” Ryker sniped back as he pulled one out. He slipped the red bottle opener from where it perched on the top of the fridge as well. “You like wine anyway, so I’m sort of doing you a favor.”   
  
Kirin just sighed as the cap popped and Ryker took a long swig.    
  
His eye drifted back to his new companion. It was the first night the dog was in a home. 

What was that like?

The concept of leaving his home, of starting over somewhere new, of abandoning the entire LeMont legacy--it seemed so far out of reach for Kirin it wasn’t even rational. 

What would a new home feel like?   
  
"Maybe start with a name?" Ryker sat back against Kirin’s counters again.    
  
Kirin looked back. "I don’t know," his brow creased. "What if he already has a name—"    
  
"Oi! Sparky!" Ryker barked out to the dog as he approached the island again. He held out his beer bottle to Kirin as he reached him.    
  
There was just a pause before, with a smooth smile, Kirin took the sour beer, and had a swig as he pointed out. "That name is dumb."    
  
"I’m not the English teacher in the room," Ryker gruffed.    
  
Kirin turned to the dog. "Bartholomew!"    
  
There was no movement. The dog didn’t even lift his head from where it was leaning at the edge of the dog bed.    
  
“Be a little more considerate,” Ryker said. “He’d be made fun of at the dog park for a name like that!” Ryker then turned back to the dog. "Elizabeth!" Ryker mocked as he switched voices to a much more fake proper voice.    
  
Kirin actually laughed. "No girl names!" He defended.    
  
"Fine," Ryker rolled his eyes. "I’ll respect the demon’s gender wishes."    
  
Kirin snickered again but didn’t comment.    
  
"Christopher Robin!" Ryker tried again in his falsely proper falsetto.    
  
Nothing... not even an ear twitch.    
  
"Anthony," Kirin said in a sweet voice, hopeful.    
  
"Christian?" Ryker questioned next.    
  
There was still no movement.    
  
"Rylan?"    
  
“Sniffles!”   
  
"Edward?"    
  
“Spot!”   
  
"Dimitri?"    
  
“Lucky!”   
  
"Hannibal?"    
  
“Justin!"    
  
Kirin stalled. "Justin?" he turned to Ryker, his brow inquiring.    
  
"I’m running out of names," Ryker said like it was obvious.    
  
"We’ve both only said like five names,” Kirin tried to hold in a laugh. "And you teach just as many students as I do. You should have a stockpile!"    
  
“Well, I don’t look at all their names," Ryker snorted.    
  
Kirin full-on laughed at that. "Yes, cause it's just so much more effective to call them by number."    
  
“I'm a PE teacher, not a lot is expected." Ryker shrugged.    
  
"Harrison?" Kirin turned the subject as he glanced back at the dog.    
  
"Lemon drop!" Ryker side-eyed the dog as well.    
  
No movement.    
  
Kirin laughed again. They weren’t making any movement but listening to the things Ryker thought were suitable names was fun enough.    
  
"Christopher," Kirin purred.    
  
"No copying!" Ryker tsked before he fired back. "Anderson!"   
  
The thud of the dog’s paws hitting the hardwood floor startled them both at that moment. Tall dark ears were perked as the dog looked at them both.    
  
Kirin—well he wasn’t gonna lie, he had goosebumps.    
  
"Is your name Anderson?" Kirin seemed frozen as he asked.    
  
"I'm not sure a dog can answer." Ryker scrutinized. Thought his fingers tapped against his beer bottle in what Kirin recognized as one of his few nervous ticks.    
  
"You're the one who was claiming it was a demon!" Kirin shot back.    
  
"Shhh! We're close I can feel it!" Ryker hushed and tried guessing again. "Aaron?"    
  
The dog flicked an ear and seemed to narrow its eyes another fraction, despite sitting up a bit more.   
  
"Andy?" Kirin tried. His chair squeaked as he leaned forward.    
  
"Like the Toy Story kid?" Ryker turned. "That’s a weak demon name!"    
  
Kirin smiled at the remark but still watched the dog. "Is it Andy?"    
  
The dog didn’t move.    
  
"More like Annie," Ryker grumbled.    
  
The bark then was loud enough that it shook the house.    
  
Kirin’s eyes shot wide and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Maybe he really was staying with a demon.    
  
Ryker had stopped mid-swing as he watched the dog. Slowly he brought the beer down as both he and Kirin stared.    
  
When no one moved, the dog gave another bark, this one not nearly as loud.    
  
"Annie?" Kirin tried it out on his tongue.    
  
The dog looked straight up at Kirin immediately.    
  
"Annie," Kirin nodded as he smiled at the dog, confident this time.    
  
"Wow," Ryker snarked next to him. "That is a worse name than Bartholemew."    
  
“Oh, shut up," Kirin laughed as he turned to the kitchen. “It’s a perfectly delightful name.”   
  
Ryker snickered but turned to offer help as well.    
  
For the rest of the night, the dog didn’t make a single sound again. But every time Kirin would walk past he’d make sure to call him by name.    
  
  


* * *

  
  
The house always creaked and groaned in the sweltering deep south summer weather--especially at night. But in Kirin’s half-asleep haze he cracked his eyes as the floorboards groaned in a familiar way like someone was stepping across them... venturing closer over the bed.    
  
It was just a second, Kirin cracked his eyes, and standing at the window was a boy. Thin, blond, and—withering...    
  
Kirin snapped awake as he pushed up.    
  
The stirring brought sky blue eyes to wheel around and the boy opened his mouth—but only a gasp came out, a terrible wordless gasp and tears started to stream down the boy's face.    
  
Kirin surged up in his bed and—   
  
As he blinked it was all gone. Whatever he’d thought—the figure was gone. The room was left in chilly dreading silence.    
  
Minty eyes flashed in the doorway to Kirin’s small bedroom, snatching Kirin’s attention.    
  
"Annie," Kirin gasped.    
  
He stood in the doorway, nose to the air as he observed the room, ears back, eyes not connecting with Kirin.    
  
For a few seconds, it stayed like that, then the dog looked away as it turned back down the hall, and with lanky steps on ghostly long legs, he trudged back through probably to the kitchen. His steps were quiet, but Kirin could hear the soft padded footfalls on the wood flooring. It was distinct as his claws scraped across the floorboards—not as the sound Kirin had awoken to.    
  
Kirin breathed out slow. That had been—He must have been still dreaming. He looked to the doorway again and then back at the window. The moon was bright outside his window.    
  
Kirin collapsed back on the bed. He could hear the crunch of Annie in the kitchen, munching on dog food. The crickets were creaking outside his bedroom window. It reminded him of when he was a kid.    
  
As he turned on his side, he found—he felt alone. Reaching for his phone, he tapped through to find Noah’s number. 

How long had it been since he had called him? Months? 

Kirin pressed the green call button before lifting the phone to his ear. 

It was late. But—but that used to never matter between him and Noah. Rain or shine, any time of day, Noah used to always be there. He used to always be by Kirin’s side. 

Kirin glanced over at the clock. What time would it be in Chicago then? 

The ringing on the other end suddenly stopped and Kirin breathed out at the sound of Noah’s voice—

“Sorry, I missed your call. Feel free to leave a message.” 

Never one for words, Noah’s voice mail echoed hollow and stale through Kirin. He didn’t bother with a message as he pulled the phone from his ear and disconnected the call. 

He just needed to hear that voice. 

The room felt empty. He could no longer hear Annie in the kitchen. He must have laid back down. 

Kirin felt cold. 

He’d brought home a dog hoping that wouldn’t be the case.    
  
But laying in the throws of the fluffy comforter of his bed—he still felt isolated. 

It had been six years since Noah had even answered Kirin’s phone calls. 

No matter how often he called.

  
  


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> ####  Read More: [Table of Contents](https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/e/2PACX-1vQgpjlnkMqJEqycr1ZIbbksEHkASwFYCP7u1HLa7gktmpn6bLDCyNgUYA0nHnxHpZcrpCtfQtsqtq0o/pubhtml?gid=0&single=true) | [Next](https://docs.google.com/document/d/e/2PACX-1vTaBrEBdgEXUmqeLH3QZJi4cdIkSXladCqbMnZC7NvQAwJEltVgHcYU7Ls-PWzUt85GW3wvCGkJMlIN/pub)
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	3. 3 - Prince

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Start reading Bone Deep from the [Begining. ](https://docs.google.com/document/d/e/2PACX-1vTakFsD7bEs0SduQ2M44j0Jo19Z10g8aLTmrb3q1MfxHYh3RMdIZTe879p_zB83VbJvUzX7kV1qLe8_/pub)
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> ###  [3 - Chapter Art ](https://www.patreon.com/posts/42935575)

[ Table of Contents ](https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/e/2PACX-1vQgpjlnkMqJEqycr1ZIbbksEHkASwFYCP7u1HLa7gktmpn6bLDCyNgUYA0nHnxHpZcrpCtfQtsqtq0o/pubhtml?gid=0&single=true) |  [ Patreon Master Post ](https://www.patreon.com/posts/40972792)

  
  


The first strum of the violin was always Kirin’s weakest. 

But he smiled to himself as he slid his hand upwards and placed the bow back over the strings again, bringing out a sweeter cord. He pushed his long braided hair out of the way before he readjusted the violin on his shoulder and tried again. 

As Kirin looked forward to the sheet music ahead of him. And tuning the small wooden instrument he tried again to slide the bow across the strings, happier notes resounded through the home as consequence.

The pad of four feet across the floor brought Kirin’s head up. 

Annie gave a groggy sniff of the air through the living room doorway as he approached. Caught mid-step, his minty eyes looked up to Kirin. 

“You’re allowed to listen,” Kirin hummed. “Though I’m pretty mediocre.” 

Taking a few steps closer to where Kirin stood at the window with his violin and music stand, Annie peered up at him, his head tilted. 

With a smile, Kirin leaned down with a wink. “Just no critique.” He laughed. 

The dog didn’t make any committal sound or move as shaggy and dark it watched Kirin straighten back up again. 

When he repositioned the violin and pulled the bow across the strings, an effortless smile crossed his face as Kirin felt the deep inhale of his soul as the music poured from the violin. The next stroke was like an exhale from deep down in Kirin and his eyes flicked closed. 

He’d set the sheet music out for a new song, but once Kirin started playing his hand on instinct was already playing the music he’d learned as a kid. 

Memories surged, Kirin hadn’t been self-deprecating--he was mediocre. He would never fill stadiums. 

But his father could have. Kirin could still hear the pure transcendence that filled their home the second Rallon LeMone would place bow to strings. He was filled with an otherworldly look as he played as if the world would stop to hear his crescendo. 

Rallon would then always turn to Kirin -- and the expectation was always there. Play like an angel. Play like a demon. 

And Kirin would tremble at the very notion he was to produce a sound such as that. 

That was an inheritance Kirin never wanted. 

Inevitably, every lesson ended in disappointment. Inevitably, every lesson would end in anger. Inevitably, Rallon would curse at his son and shake him, acting near desperate to impart just an ounce of the liquid gold Rallon could spin from those bowstrings. 

The violin in Kirin’s fingers fell from his shoulder as his arm dropped. 

The dog at his feet prodded forward. 

Setting the violin down, Kirin turned to the small side table. He slid his fingers under the bulbous shape of the wine glass before lifting to his mouth. 

Resigning to the wine, Kirin stepped to the couch and sat back. Annie’s nails on the hardwood floors clicked again as he approached. 

Kirin’s eyes still lingered on the violin at the window sill. 

It set precedence, didn’t it? Kirin always expected to pick up his violin and hear the sweet strings and relax--only now and then the cords turned sour--He’d never produce a sound like his father had. 

“Do you want to hear a story?” Kirin asked the dog next to him.

Annie gave a tilt of his head again before giving a slow blink of his minty unnatural eyes. 

Kirin moved the throw pillows away from him. “Come sit with me?” 

For a moment Kirin thought he might get rejected, but the dog took a great leap forward to settle on the couch. 

Kirin smiled as he reached back for the wine. “This sort of story is told best with a bit of liquid courage,” he remarked before he drank again. 

The dog just continued to observe Kirin, paws stretched out over the cushion’s edge. 

“Once upon a time,” Kirin started. “There was a prince.” 

As he spoke he poured himself another glass from the tall bottle at the side table. 

“Well, to start at the beginning, there was a king--that carried with him immense riches.” Kirin gestured to around him. The rich carpets, the stacked bookcases, the rich leather couch, and gold-trimmed trinkets. 

“But the king married a peasant.” Kirin leaned into the dark head of the dog, whispering as if it was a secret. “She was beautiful and wonderful, and sweet--all the king thought he wanted.” Kirin took another sip. “But you see, the castle was no place for a peasant, he said to her.” Kirin waved his finger in the air. “It would overwhelm her.”

“So they moved to a cottage in the woods.” Kirin gestured around. “And gave birth to a prince!” Kirin leaned back into Annie, with a grin. 

“He looked just like the king with his fair skin and hair, his slender long grace--but his plain mother’s dark eyes.” Kirin gave a long blink of his dark brown eyes before drinking more wine. “And the King always said he had one gift to give the prince--a talent, aspiring that would bring him fortune and praise!” 

“But--” Kirin paused. “Some things you can't inherit. And the shadow of a king is a very daunting thing to live up to.” 

Kirin leaned back on the couch, the room around him was filled to the brim with beautiful things. All of it was his father's things. Most of the kitchen was as well, like the hallway and the bathroom. 

“A small cottage in the woods isn’t a place to expect a prince.” Kirin mused. “But legacy after legacy was promised. The king talked about grand castles and immaculate ballrooms, he promised scores of subjects and gifts from around the world!” 

Kirin let a sad smile fall to his lips. “But that was all they were, promises.”

Kirin looked at Annie as he spoke next. “The king died choked on those promises.” 

“And there were no castles.” Kirin laughed. “There were no riches. Just stuff. Just silly old stuff. None of it is worth a thing. 

“And the one thing he had tried to give them to inherit--the Prince never could grasp it. Not like the king.” Kirin let out a deep sigh. “All the Prince really inherited was a name, and a title, but long before he was ever born--” Kirin let his head rest back as he felt a laugh giggling up in him. 

“They spent it all. Every last fucking dime was gone.” Kirin still laughed. “It was all gone before even the King had a chance at it is my guess.” 

Kirin downed the remnants of his wine. 

Licking his lips, Kirin stared at the empty wine glass. “Are you still royalty if all the money is gone?” 

Pulling in another breath, Kirin looked down to Annie inquiring an answer before--

A white flash of a person struck through Kirin’s peripheral vision. He looked up just in time to catch the last wisps of a barefooted fleeting leap cross the doorway leading into the hallway. 

Kirin blinked and his hand holding the wine glass dropped.

“Hello?” He called. Kirin could feel the weight of sluggish influence on his limbs at that point. 

The dog at his side stirred. Looking back over his shoulder—Kirin thought for a moment he almost looked forlorn. 

There was no answer through from the old cottage in the woods. 

Kirin knew he’d seen something though just a flash but it was someone—blonde he could tell, even from the fleeting moment. 

There was a gruffed woof before him that pulled Kirin’s attention back down. 

Kirin was drunk. A bottle of wine was more than his limit. Maybe it was a trick of the light, or Kirin’s tired mind making things up. 

Either way, Kirin let it go as he smiled down at his dog. “Did you like the music?” Kirin asked. “I’m afraid I’m not nearly as good as my father was though.” 

He got another deep resounding howl. 

“Would you like to make more music together?” Kirin smiled still as he stood. He placed the violin back onto his shoulder and positioned the bow. 

The dog gave another resounding howl until Kiirn started playing. Plopping back down on the couch, the dog watched quietly as Kirin kept up the music. 

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